The Gift of Prometheus
by lovesrainscent
Summary: A mythology-inspired little bit. Orochimaru bestows a divine gift upon Kabuto. In typical Orochimaru fashion, of course.


**Title:** The Gift of Prometheus

**Author:** Lovesrainscent

**Rating:** T

**Pairing:** Orochimaru/Kabuto

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these Naruto characters and stand to make no profit from posting this story.

_Between the idea  
And the reality  
Between the motion  
And the act  
Falls the Shadow_

_For Thine is the Kingdom_

_Between the conception  
And the creation  
Between the emotion  
And the response  
Falls the Shadow_

_T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"_

**The Gift of Prometheus**

Orochimaru knew the names which he was called by villagers and shinobi throughout the great nations – sadist, monster, evil genius, demon.

He'd laughed them all off and pursued his purposes with single minded dedication. Morality held little meaning to him, he'd been brought up to be a perfect weapon of destruction by a _loving _village with a _loving_ sensei and _loving_ teammates. He'd long since given up trying to understand that dichotomy.

Being a perfect weapon was his purpose for existence; it was all he knew. He soon came to realize that the only way to achieve that purpose, to achieve that perfection was to endure life, surpass death and live forever, learning every possible jutsu along the way.

So the labels attached to him had essentially meant nothing, words whispered in the dark to young children to terrify them into proper behavior – _you'd better be good or Orochimaru will get you._

Again, the dichotomy was curious, how _loving _parents could express their _love_ to their children through _fear_. Someday, when he had achieved his goal and had time enough for such foolishness, he would turn his attention to these disconnects_._

But in the meantime he had a goal to pursue. He bore the villagers no animosity. Well, except for those in Konoha, but that was a special case.

In general he did not care about villagers one way or another, much less hate them, much less seek out to destroy them. It's just that their bodies were going to wear out sooner rather than later so he might as well make use of them.

And if those villagers and shinobi told the truth, they would have to admit that he rarely stole. Well, perhaps an occasional infant or two, but for the most part he _offered_. He offered power or longevity or skill but his terms were that he demanded to be paid in full. And Orochimaru rarely needed to steal because it was much easier to barter.

At some point he had encountered a group that seemed worthy to ally with for a time, the Akatski. But he'd soon exhausted what new knowledge he could gain from them, and bored, returned to his more solitary pursuits.

The idiot Sasori had sent a spy after him, a useless little puppet on a string called Kabuto. The boy had been under Sasori's control since he was a child. Orochimaru had sighed, it was tedious. He decided to make a game of it and wait for the puppet to make its move.

Eventually the boy did strike, coming at him one night so silently that Orochimaru had almost missed hearing him, which thrilled the snake-sannin no end. However, he easily caught the wrist that held the kunai and grabbed the other one that was reaching for the poison pill the boy was programmed to take in the event his mission should fail.

"I suppose you'll torture me for information," Kabuto droned in a rote recital of the words Sasori had implanted, "but you should be aware that I have no knowledge of my master's plans for the data I've been passing to him."

"Torture?" Orochimaru asked bemused. "I suppose you could call it that."

Then he leaned his face to the boy, breath of his words feathering against his cheek like a kiss, "I give you a gift, Kabuto Yakushi." And with that he muttered the release that broke the puppetmaster's strings.

The display had been beautiful, more wrenching than Orochimaru could have possibly imagined. Conflict had washed across the boy's face, gratitude and disgust, hate and desire, and an aching need for both life and death in that single moment.

Kabuto had looked at him, tears welling up in his eyes behind his glasses, for the first time in his life the weight of his own self-determination and free will crushing down on him.

"My god," the boy sobbed, trying to look away but Orochimaru now held his chin fast so that he could not. "You're a monster."

Orochimaru smiled then and it was terrible in its beauty. He released the silver-haired boy and let him collapse in a disheveled heap to the ground.

"Choose then this day whom you will serve," he said as he turned and walked away.


End file.
